keep me in mind (when you're ready, i am here)
by khaleessiya
Summary: The day Oliver Queen came into Felicity's world, her life was never the same. Neither was his, it just takes him a lot longer to realize. / Mostly canon compliant episode tags.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Tag to episode 1x09, Years End - before Walter is discovered missing.

* * *

For the past half hour Oliver has been watching a daytime talk show with the volume low enough he can barely hear it, not particularly caring what they're saying as he stares at the screen. It's a way to pass time while he's holed up in a room that smells strongly of disinfectant and makes him itch to be free, either at home resting in his own bed, or at the foundry, doing something else with his time besides being injured. The reality of the situation has him grounded in a hospital bed, though, ribs broken, bruises covering him, his entire body protesting even the barest of movements.

At some point, he's stopped actually seeing what's on the TV screen, stopped seeing the men and women sitting on plush chairs in front of a live audience. It's not until the door opens that he realizes he's zoned out almost completely. Thea's head peeking into the room captures his attention, surprises him, because she'd just been to see him earlier that morning. Oliver smiles at her, regretting it the moment his face hurts - jaw especially - when he does. She either doesn't notice, or is very good at acting like she doesn't, and bounds into the room when she sees he's awake, a large and colourful bag hanging from her arm.

"You've got to stop getting hurt," Thea says, holding the bag up, "Your fans get very concerned every time you do."

Oliver groans, because this isn't an improvement to his day.

Thea takes a seat beside him, grins, and pulls out a handful of cards, "Let's see if any of these names sound like they belong your soulmate, Ollie." She raises an eyebrow at him, waits for him to respond, and when he doesn't, begins reading off names from the envelopes, "Michelle Bowens, Kathleen Smith, James Whitaker, Alice White, Andrea Hargrave, Debbie Ayala, Wade Cabrera, Edie Janousek, Cynthia McGrath, Felicity Smoak, Lori McBride, Tara Killinger, Steve Hagen -"

"Wait, back up a few," Oliver says suddenly, once the name registers. "Felicity Smoak?"

Thea shoots him a curious look, a questioning one, before shuffling back to the bright yellow envelope and holding it up.

"Yeah? She a friend of yours?"

There's a moment where Oliver hesitates, unsure how to answer the question. Felicity isn't his friend, not really. But then, isn't she? Despite never having seen or talked to her outside the IT department - his initial surveillance of her doesn't count - and his needing her help, he knows he can trust her, wouldn't be going to her for information if he felt he couldn't.

"She's a friend," Oliver finally confirms, holding his hand out for the card.

A card that, when he opens it, bears a panda holding glittery flowers with the words 'please get well' above. It's so very Felicity Smoak he can't help but smile, which earns him another look from Thea he chooses to ignore.

* * *

"I thought you were Jewish."

The last thing Felicity expected to hear when she came into work today was that voice again, and so soon. Especially considering the extent of his injuries following his accident. Glancing up, she sees Oliver Queen standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the antlers she's wearing. Her small attempt at being festive in an environment that's entirely devoid of anything festive at all. Jewish or not, she can still appreciate the holiday season in a general way, and she's always had a soft spot for Santa's reindeer, particularly Dasher. Though she never could pinpoint why.

"Reindeer are not exclusively Christian," she points out. "But I doubt that's what you came here to discuss."

"No, it's not," he admits, finally settling his gaze somewhere other than the ridiculous antlers she's now somewhat embarrassed she wore to work today.

Their eyes meet, Felicity holding his gaze for several beats of her heart - quickened beats - before looking away, back at her computer screen under the pretense she's actually going to continue her work. He's had this same effect on her since the first day he walked into the IT department, depositing a bullet hole ridden laptop into her hands she was supposed to believe had coffee spilled on it. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the lie that had intrigued her, paired with his face, his entire being really - a combination of things that had made it so she'd thought about him long after he'd left. Made it so each time he's come, she's continued to think about him after he's long gone.

"What can I do to help you, Mr. Queen?"

A flash of annoyance crosses his face at the final two words and Felicity recalls their first conversation, his insistence she needn't call him that. As much as she'd like to be on such a personal level with him, to feel comfortable letting Oliver slip off her tongue like they're old friends, Mr. Queen puts a certain level of professionalism between them she needs. Reminds her his name is also the name of the company she's employed by. That his step-father is her boss, that he could possibly be her boss someday.

"The card," he says, stepping forward, voice breaking into her thoughts. "I got the get well card."

"Oh, that. That was weird, right? I shouldn't have sent it. But then I saw on the news you'd been in that accident and I - It was an impulse decision," Felicity trails off.

"No, it was nice. Unexpected, but nice. I came to say thank you," his upper body leans forward ever so slightly and winces, reminding her he's still injured.

Injuries that, when Felicity studies them - the scrapes on the side of his neck near his ear and along his jaw, the bruises on the other side at his throat, and around the cut above his eyebrow - don't seem thoroughly consistent with a motorcycle accident involving a helmet. More like a brawl if the medical report she may or may not have stolen from the hospital's server is any indication. And maybe she did some checking to see if she could find the other vehicle, too, but came up with nothing. But then, she's not exactly a medical professional, even if there is something off to the story for her. Another mystery to be filed away with laptops covered in bullet holes.

Which therein lies the problem, because Felicity has always hated mysteries.

"Was there a reason you came all the way to the IT department at Queen Consolidated to thank me when you look like you should still be in a hospital?" she asks, wanting to fill the silence with something other than her continued studying of his injuries and her wondering what else may have caused them. "I mean, not that I'm not flattered - which I'm not flattered, by the way, because there's no reason to be flattered - but there are phones."

Talking probably wasn't the wisest decision, in retrospect. Or maybe it was, considering there's the faintest hint of a smile on his annoyingly attractive face.

"You're right, I could have called to thank you," he says slowly, as if weighing the words before he speaks. "But it seemed like the kind of thing I should say in person. And not just for the card, for everything, Felicity."

The way he says her name makes her cheeks warm, and she wishes it was darker in the room so he won't see her blush as she quickly looks away. He was the last person she expected to see when she came into work that day, but she can't say she minds the surprise. Even if she has to remind herself it's just a thank you, that the butterflies she's feeling are insignificant, because he's simply being nice. Expressing his gratitude at her having helped him, for caring that he got hurt. Nothing more.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Tag to episode 1x11 Trust But Verify. I couldn't remember when the first time Diggle meets Felicity on the show is, but I seem to be thinking it's when he shows up with Oliver in Vertigo with the "energy drink hangover" whatever story - so, just go with it and pretend that's the case if they have met before that in canon.

* * *

"You sure you want to keep involving an IT girl from your family's company in all this?" Diggle asks from across the room. "Wasn't very hard to figure out why you keep going to the IT department after Knox said somebody hacked their system."

Oliver glances up, sees the trace of disapproval he'd heard in the other man's words all over his face and debates ignoring him entirely.

"She's already involved," he says after a moment's thought, hoping that will be the end of the conversation.

"My point being, is that a wise decision?" Diggle persists, crossing his arms over his chest as he levels Oliver with a look that says plainly enough what he thinks of Felicity Smoak's involvement in the vigilante's world.

"I can't exactly go back and change it," Oliver reminds him, having a hard time keeping the edge out of his words.

"But you can change whether or not you go to her in the future for help," Diggle counters, keeping his own voice calm, steady, merely conversational.

"I don't have," Oliver pauses, considering the right way to say it, "I don't have her skill level."

It's the closest he's going to come to admitting he needs her. That the vigilante needs Felicity in order to keep crossing names off the list. The same way he'd needed Diggle. A means of having support, another set of tools that can help him. Even so, Oliver has to admit Diggle has a point. Bringing her into this, even as little as he has - which admittedly is quite a lot considering some of the information she's unearthed - puts her in a dangerous situation. Puts him, and Diggle by association, in a dangerous situation. Because every ridiculous lie he has to tell to gain her help is one lie closer to her finding out the truth.

To possibly revealing him as the vigilante, even if something inside him says she'd never tell.

"And she hacks security companies for you because you ask her nicely? No questions?" Diggle asks, skeptical.

"There may have been a hypothetical bottle of wine involved this time that may have persuaded her to help," Oliver admits and regrets it when the look of exasperation crosses Diggle's face.

"Don't tell me you're flirting with this girl so you can use her, Oliver."

"I'm not flirting with her," he insists, ignoring the way his mind replays the '_Is that your way of saying you missed me?'_ which admittedly was just the tiniest bit of instinctive flirting. "It was a prize for a scavenger hunt I told her I needed help with and I might have said if she helped me win, I'd give her the wine."

"Oliver, man, you have got to work on your cover stories," Diggle shakes his head, but smiles all the same. "Especially if you want this girl on your team."

"I know," Oliver agrees, wondering - not for the first time - how it's possible he has become such a good liar in some aspects of his life yet can't concoct a believable one any time he needs Felicity's help.

"At least tell me you got her that bottle of wine?"

Oliver winces at the question.

"It's possible I forgot to do that," he says and Diggle lifts his hands in the air, an 'I give up' gesture if Oliver has ever seen one.

"Don't tell me that," Diggle warns, yet another disapproving expression settling onto his face that makes it clear he thinks Oliver has indeed simply been using Felicity Smoak and flirting with her to get results.

"I'll send it tomorrow, I promise," he says, because suddenly, he's on Diggle's side concerning his possibly having used her and feels a bottle of wine is the least he can do to say thank you.

* * *

Six weeks is a relatively short time in the grand scheme of life, but for Felicity, it seemed significantly long. Mostly, and she hates to admit this, because she'd grown somewhat used to Oliver Queen popping into the IT department with his ridiculous stories and needing her help. It had made her feel… special. Important. How many girls could say they got personal visits from Starling City's most eligible - if slightly damaged - bachelor? And just maybe she'd thought, after the unexpected visit to thank her for the card she'd sent him, that there might be some hint of attraction there on his part, too.

But then one week had passed, two, and three stretched into six with no hint of Mr. Queen returning to the IT department. Which, when accompanied by the sudden disappearance of Walter Steele and her inability to locate even the slightest trace of him, had thrown Felicity into a decidedly depressing funk she didn't particularly care to acknowledge. Needless to say, having the enigmatic Queen grace her with his presence had made her day a little brighter. Momentarily. She'd been naive enough at first to think the flimsy excuse about a scavenger hunt was merely a reason he'd thought up to see her.

Reality came crashing down on her fairly quickly. Men like Oliver Queen are interested in women like her for one reason, and one reason only. Her talent. What she can do for him, and as surely as Felicity had latched onto the offered bottle of wine, she'd also accepted rather quickly that it was merely his way of bribing her into doing what he wanted her to and let go of any hope of ever seeing that bottle following their final conversation. Two days later and it's still bothering her, ever so slightly, even if she's come to terms with it - for the most part.

"Hey, you've got someone waiting for you at your desk," breaks into Felicity's thoughts as she stares absently at the coffee machine in front of her.

"Hmm?"

"Someone's waiting for you upstairs," Jenn, a fellow IT girl, repeats, maneuvering around Felicity so she can grab a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," she murmurs, her mind still caught up in thoughts of Oliver Queen as she heads back to the IT department.

Halfway there it fully registers what Jenn said and there's the inevitable skip to her heart that suggests she's hoping said visitor is Mr. Queen in the flesh. Regardless of whether he's simply using her for her very exceptional skills, there's no way Felicity can deny she enjoys seeing him. It's not like she gets very many personal visitors from anyone else. Mostly phone calls asking her to do this or that, whatever it is the incompetent employees of Queen Consolidated are incapable of doing themselves. Aside from Chris in accounting, who she does not enjoy seeing, Felicity really only gets one other personal visitor.

And the person waiting for her is most definitely not that person.

"Oh, hi," slips out of her, sounding disappointed even to her own ears.

"Not who you were expecting?" the man asks, and there's something in the way he says it, in the amused smile he wears, that makes Felicity feel like he can read her thoughts.

"I wasn't expecting anyone. No one at all," she insists, possibly a little more forcefully than necessary. "How can I help you, Mr. …?"

"Diggle, but I'm not here for IT assistance, Ms. Smoak," he says, holding up a bag that she recognizes as being one that would hold wine. "As promised, Mr. Queen sends his thanks."

"Are you the friend who set up the scavenger hunt for him?" Felicity asks as a way of masking her sudden excitement. Because if there's one thing she loves, it's red wine, and here she'd given up on ever seeing that bottle.

"I can't say I was involved in any scavenger hunt," Diggle's expression changes to one of annoyance for a fraction of a second before easily settling into one of indifference.

"Yeah, well, I'm not so sure he can either," Felicity says, and it's clear by the sudden tensing of his jaw that Mr. Diggle doesn't want to talk about anything involving a scavenger hunt that lead her to the discovery of armored car heists. She's not sure she blames him.

"Not much of a wine man myself," Diggle says, changing the subject swiftly, smoothly as he sets the bag down on Felicity's desk. "But I have it on good authority this is one of the best."

Later, when Felicity goes home, settles into her bath with music on low and a glass of that wine in hand, she's more than inclined to agree with his statement.


End file.
